


Rucksack Collar

by LuckyREBD



Category: Invaders, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyREBD/pseuds/LuckyREBD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Older Fiction.<br/>Bucky is captured, but the result is not even remotely what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rucksack Collar

Bucky scowls at the young man in the dark uniform, crouching outside the cell with his hand outstretched to the damn mutt that landed him in there in the first place. The floor is damp from the scalding water they had sprayed the cell with when he arrived, and his skin still feels light and itchy, red splotches blossoming on the more tender patches of skin, hair raised uselessly on his arms. The light flickers, a single bulb dangling from a cord out of the ceiling, and the lantern on the table is lit in case the wiring finally gives out.   
Tasting copper on his lips, Bucky twists his wrists a little, testing the bonds around them and ignoring the deep purple and blue marks laying under the coarse rope.

"Stop that, you will only harm yourself." The man scolds, his accent much harder to notice than the average German Bucky had run across, and pale eyes flicker over to the captive, away from the puppy whose ears he ruffles playfully, "Do not bother telling me of how you will not break or betray your allies. I do not care to hear these things."  
Growling a little under his breath, Bucky shifts uncomfortably, pulling his legs inwards to sit cross-legged. No sense in preserving his dignity when the kraut isn't even looking at him.

"Then why're you even down here?" Bucky asks suspiciously, eyes narrowed at the boy, who though his hair and eyebrows are light, has curiously dark eyelashes. The German does not bother to respond, and instead smiles as the dog licks his face eagerly, rubbing at the fur with heavy, gloved hands.

The soldier toys with the dog's clumsily crafted collar, made from the old strap to an army rucksack, "Does it have a name?"   
"What?" Bucky stares, a little taken aback by the question, and the sheer incredulity of being naked in a cell while having a German soldier ask him about a puppy.  
"A name. Does this dog have a name." The man repeats, making quite sure Bucky is certain of how idiotic the captive is for having to need such a thing clarified, "I would like to know what the dog is called."

"Oh." His memory wanders to Toro, holding up the puppy excitedly after coaxing the stubborn bastard out of the debris from the remains of a bombed house, and proudly declaring it be named 'Spanky', after the General in the movie. He swallows roughly, but finding it difficult to see the harm in answering, offers, "Spanky. We're callin' him Spanky." The dog lifts it's head, ears perking at the sound of the name. After Toro saying it so much, the puppy associated it's name with being petted, and nosed at the bars.

"Ah, nein, stay away from there, Spanky." The soldier scolds gently, coaxing the animal back from the bars and into his lap, playing with the pert ears, "I am called Marcus." He leans down, clearly speaking to the puppy with a smile tugging at his lips, the expression taking away the edge of severity and revealing the soldier to be barely Bucky's age. Bucky would have felt sorry for the kid, if he hadn't spotted the silver knife sheathed neatly at his belt, and the Mauser holstered at his hip. 

"So, you're on prison-watch, huh?" Bucky muses conversationally, debating whether the kid would know anything useful as he finally slips one wrist out, the skin scraped raw and bleeding a little. The boy doesn't look at him, too distracted by the puppy to care about the prisoner for the moment, and Bucky is relieved for that at least.

"Nein." Marcus shakes his head, and sneaks a bit of dried meat from his pouch to offer as a treat, while Bucky's stomach grumbles in objection at the sight of food, "I am here to take the dog. Otherwise it will be shot, for staying by your side." The soldier explains patiently, voice hinting at regret, which Bucky suspects may even be genuine, "And with training, it may even be taught not to bark and give away it's master's position."

Bucky grits his teeth at the jibe, remembering the panic he felt with the idiot dog started barking at the patrol they had just evaded, resulting in only one of them getting away, and fliers tend to have the advantage with the whole 'fight or flight' bit. Worse, the dog had followed them the whole way back, resulting in numerous jokes of 'dogs staying together' and the like, but Bucky didn't want the little furball dead. Toro would never forgive him if he got their-- Toro's puppy killed,  
"Then where is the guy who IS supposed to be watchin' me?" Bucky prods, wondering why the cell blocks sound so quiet, and how he hadn't noticed until now.

"Dead." Marcus answers flippantly, "Which reminds me, your clothing is stored down the hall. I would appreciate you waiting until I have had time to leave before doing anything rash." He stands, fastening the leash to the puppy's collar, "Though you may have to clean your gloves. They were larger than expected, and I was regrettably sloppy." 

Bucky stares, mouth agape as the boy collects his things briskly, realizing that sitting innocently on the ground by the cell bars is a brass key.  
"Fuß, Spanky."

**Author's Note:**

> Marcus is an original character. Sorry?


End file.
